The Champion
by witchyvamp
Summary: *being revised* AU This is a world where Lord Voldemort rid the magical world from the tyranny of the Dark Lord Grindelwald. And now being the proclaimed ruler of Britain, he has decided to bring back the Triwizard Tournament. Harry Potter is a 7thyear Gryffindor student who decides to put his name in the Goblet of Fire. Revamped and more challenging TWT. Powerful!Harry Grey!Harry
1. Chapter 1

**Beta: Mrs. ThorfinnRowle**

This first chapter also contains some valuable inputs from **Srikanth1808**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 – The Goblet of Fire**

 ** _Who will be our Champion?_**

 _The Triwizard Tournament –which can unarguably said to be the most prestigious competition to be ever organized between the three largest wizarding schools in Europe, needs no further introduction, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent for the Daily Prophet. With this fierce, demanding and equally rewarding tournament being brought back into our traditions once again, the credit for which goes to none other than the leader of Britain, the Supreme Lord Voldemort; the public interest throughout the realm has been unprecedented ever since its announcement a month ago. The revival of the Tournament after almost a century can be said to be a small part of the Supreme Lord's pledge to bring back our wizarding world to its former glory._

 _As our regular readers are certainly aware, the representatives from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, the two other participating schools, have already been made comfortable at the host school of Britain, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One champion from each of the three schools' eligible contenders will be selected by an unbiased judge, the Goblet of Fire, conforming to the age-old traditional practice. For those of our readers who are out of touch with the customs, the selection by the Goblet constitutes a binding magical contract, compelling the Champions to participate in three extremely dangerous Tasks failing which they risk forfeiting their magic. With the grand prize of one million Galleons at stake and not to mention the chance to bring glory for themselves and their school, up for grabs, the Champions need no further incentive to participate and compete – and yet, the daunting nature of the Tasks has forced many a Champion in the past to compete against their will, and in some cases, give up their life in the process._

 _Rumors have been abounding that the Supreme Lord Voldemort will have a vested interest in the Tournament, on account of this event being his own brainchild and a culmination of his untiring efforts. If the grapevine in the Department of International Magical Cooperation is to be believed, the Supreme Lord may offer yet another surprise reward to the victor of the Triwizard Cup, if he or she manages to impress him enough. We are all aware that Lord Voldemort is not an easy person to sway, so convincing him in itself will be quite an accomplishment._

 _Severus Snape, the curt Headmaster of Hogwarts was only available for a short comment. When asked if he wanted a Hogwarts student to win the Tournament, he replied, "Of course, I wish for the Hogwarts Champion to win the Triwizard Cup. Keeping in mind the safety of students, the new rules will allow only the students who are of age, to participate. Our school curriculum is undoubtedly the most extensive there is, which makes me confident that our Champion will manage the Tasks better than the others." He gave no comments when asked if he had any particular student in mind who could be the Hogwarts Champion. It is well worth noting, dear readers, that the heir of the current British Minister of Magic Lord Lucius Malfoy, is currently a seventh year student at Hogwarts._

 _It seems fair to say that, just like you, our dear readers, we at The Daily Prophet are very excited to find out who the Hogwarts Champion – and by extension, our own contender – will be. If the rumors prove to be true, the proceedings of the Tournament will make for quite an interesting show. The Ministry officials are being unusually tightlipped about the traditional three Tasks of this tournament; no doubt restrained by the strict secrecy clause. Don't miss out on the exclusive coverage of this grand affair by your beloved correspondent, Rita Skeeter._

Harry Potter quietly put aside the copy of his _Daily Prophet_ after reading the front page article, and perused the options available for his breakfast. His seventh year at school had just begun and the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament this year had to be the most important thing to have ever happened in his entire school career. The entire country was thrilled over the renewal of this tournament and the undivided press attention was just fueling their interest further, and selling more copies on the account, no doubt!

It was almost twenty years since the famous battle of Hogwarts, after which the reign of Lord Voldemort over the wizarding Britain had begun. Harry's own parents were the students here at the time, both Head Boy and Girl of Hogwarts and had even participated in the battle themselves against the Dark Lord Grindelward's forces. A war memorial stood at the gates of Hogwarts to commemorate those students who had died defending their school, a grim reminder to everyone how innocents are the first ones to suffer in a conflict of ideals.

Lord Voldemort had taken over the title of the Supreme Lord after his glorious victory and had ruled the British Wizarding world ever since. In the new era of his rule, the law and order were given top priority. Many reforms had been undertaken but any connections to the muggle world or people were actively discouraged. People had eventually left the dark times behind them and the wizarding society and trade was now prosperous as ever. The Supreme Lord had never directly interfered in the affairs of Hogwarts but it was well known that he regularly tracked the school records and gave priority to uplifting the standard of magical education. In all his time at the school, Harry couldn't recall any impositions from the Supreme Lord or the Ministry when it came to the matters of Hogwarts, other than his ex-DADA professors who were alleged to have been recommended by the Ministry on the Supreme Lord's instructions.

Ronald Weasley, the only student at Hogwarts that could be called his friend – not that Harry had any choice in the matter, with the boy following him everywhere since they were kids, on an excuse of being a family friend– also the person whose mouth was currently stuffed with the sandwich he was eating, asked him, "What does Skeeter say in the article, Harry?"

Harry had stopped telling Ron off for his unsavory eating habits long ago; however, he couldn't help shaking his head at the indolence of his friend to even read the article himself. He replied to him in an even tone, "That the winner of the Tournament may get a reward from the Supreme Lord himself."

Even though Skeeter had labeled this as a rumor, Harry was smart enough to know that the rumors she usually placed inside her articles, more often than not, turned out to be true in the end. The reporter had to have an insider working in important circles, or she was a very good spy herself. In fact, Harry himself had been wondering at the reason the other two schools had agreed to participate. They could have easily afforded the million galleons themselves, but a prize from the renowned Lord Voldemort must have obviously motivated them to take part.

Meanwhile, Ron had opened his still almost full mouth in surprise. "That's wick…"

Before Harry could bring himself to point this out to his friend, he was beaten to it by Hermione Pritchard, the adoptive daughter of the honorable House of Pritchard, and currently the Head Girl of the school.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Weasley?" she said, in her high, condescending voice, looking up from her book. "Don't open your mouth while you eat! It's been seven years since you joined here, and you still lack the basic manners and etiquette. How were you even chosen as a prefect, I will never understand!" After making her disapproval clear, she went back to the book she was reading.

Ron shut his mouth pretty quickly and turned bright red with embarrassment after the angry rebuke. He was no doubt, regretting his decision to sit close to her. Harry was well aware of the secret crush Ron had on the brown haired Gryffindor for some time now, but the boy had not been able to tell her about his feelings yet. Seeing as how she hated anything that went against her Pureblood upbringing with a passion, Harry had a good idea of how she would react to Ron's declaration even if he could bring himself to it. It was a lost cause, and being a good friend or rather preferring to not be the shoulder to be cried on when Ron finally broke his heart, Harry wisely did not want to involve himself in the matter.

It was however amusing that Pritchard was openly declaring that she could not understand something. As far as Harry knew about the girl, she was rather obstinate with comprehending anything that caught her attention. If it was not for the House of Pritchard, Harry would've been surprised that she was even a Gryffindor!

"Well, we are going to know who the champions will be by tomorrow night anyway," Harry told Ron, eyeing the Beauxbatons students who looked far too comfortable at the adjacent Ravenclaw table.

Ron, who had swallowed his food hastily by now, spoke up. His voice came out loud. "So Harry, are you going to put your name in?"

Unfortunately, the question seemed to garner attention from the other surrounding students at the Gryffindor table.

"Of course, Ron! My birthday was in July itself, so I'm pretty sure I qualify," Harry told him, not forgetting to keep the uncomfortable tone in his voice. Reflexively, his hand went to his face, straightening his glasses. It was for times like these that Harry really wore his square rimmed glasses, to shield himself behind them whenever he acquired unwanted attention; his eyesight had been corrected long ago. Besides, his Uncle Padfoot would never forgive him if he didn't even volunteer his name for the tournament.

Harry's godfather, the newly crowned Lord Black, lived his life solely for adventures, and Harry himself had often been unwittingly caught along in the man's adventures. However, Harry soon found out that they didn't always end up being as fun as his Uncle Padfoot persistently promised. One time, Harry had ended up saving his godfather from the brink of death when they had encountered some rogue Dementors on one of their adventures gone wrong. He still got chills whenever he thought about that time.

"We are in the House of Brave for a reason, Weasley. We _have_ to put our names in the Goblet, it will be against the honor of our House if anyone didn't." Hermione Pritchard spoke up, brushing aside her brown bushy hair, haughtily. She had closed off her book, clearly not able to concentrate when the atmosphere in the Great Hall was so abuzz with excitement. Trust a Gryffindor, to make everything all about pride!

There were murmurs of agreement all through the seventh year students, and some even from the excited sixth years. Ron, whose face had turned red at the head girl's response to his question, replied quickly, "I didn't really doubt it, Pritchard. We were going to put our names together, that's why I asked Harry about it."

Now, that was a blatant lie. No doubt, Ron was trying to lessen her angry mood. What he didn't realize was that her problem was more with his manners and disposition than with his words.

"Whatever," was Pritchard's response before she turned her attention away; something Harry was thankful for. The girl was much too observant for Harry's liking. In fact, Harry had a doubt that she was suspicious of him for some reason, for he had caught her observing him several times with a mistrustful look on her face; Gryffindors never really learnt the art of being subtle.

At his side, Ron heaved a sigh of relief. "Wow, that girl is as Gryffindor as they come!"

Brash, demanding, intrusive, loud; Harry couldn't agree more!

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend, sensibly refraining from making any verbal comment. He couldn't help but glance at the Slytherin table, where the students were gathered around Draco Malfoy, son of the current Minister for Magic and the Hogwarts Head Boy. Malfoy's characteristic bright blond hair was clearly visible from Harry's seat. Judging by their unusually enthusiastic faces, it looked like the Slytherins were pretty confident who the Hogwarts champion was going to be. The Prophet too had subtly mentioned the Malfoy Heir as the only possible candidate. Harry couldn't help noticing that Malfoy looked rather subdued than he had expected him to be, and was gazing down at his plate in silence. Whether Draco Malfoy did not want to compete or he was merely nervous, Harry couldn't tell.

Looking back at his own plate, Harry thought about what this opportunity meant for him. For the last six years at the school, Harry had mostly lived in shadows if one excluded his brief stint as the Seeker for his Quidditch House team. He had mostly spent his time here learning as much as the school and its resources could offer him. He had never needed any friends, his godfather more than made up for any teenage company whenever he needed it. Even during his holidays, most of Harry's time was spent on learning something new, mostly about the muggle world.

It was Harry's mother who had always insisted that despite the narrow minded views of the wizarding society about muggles, her son learnt everything that was worth knowing; the best of both the worlds, she used to say. And so, despite the undeclared rule to not intermingle with the muggles, Harry did precisely that.

Lily Potter had been the best mother that ever was, which made her loss that much painful for Harry. Since the time he had gained consciousness of the world, his mother had always been there for him; be it as his nurturer, his protector, his teacher or his friend. Lily had been the one constant that never changed for Harry till death had parted their ways. His father, James Potter, had always been busy as his taxing job as Auror required him to be. Seeing that, Lily had downright refused to work until Harry had begun Hogwarts as a student. Harry had always been her top priority in her life, there was never any doubt about that.

Harry could recognize the passion his mother had for researching the complex strands of magic, not that he could apprehend any of her advanced work at the time. But even then, Lily devoted most of her time on her son and as a result, she knew him more than he himself ever did. She was the first one to spot his skill on the broom, which his father and godfather had happily aided him perfecting.

For all her constant love and guidance, his mother only ever asked one single thing of Harry, to keep some secrets between them. He was to never tell anyone else about the magic that they practiced together, he was to make no mention about his Parseltongue ability in front of anyone, nor about the details of his wand and neither about the frequent visits they made to the muggle world. Of course, these requests made by his mother had made no sense to Harry then, but now he could appreciate her wisdom quite aptly.

His mother had introduced Harry to her sister Petunia Dursley and her small family consisting of her husband and an only son. Harry had been introduced to his muggle cousin Dudley, and even though Harry never liked his extended family much, he regularly visited them nonetheless for the sake of her mother. Despite his many faults, Dudley had an extensive knowledge of computers and gadgets as well as muggle combat fighting, something Harry had been thankful to learn and get updated about by his cousin. He had come to appreciate the prospects muggle knowledge offered and so he had continued his familiarity with the muggle world even after his mother had passed away. Harry missed her terribly, and whenever the longing became too much for him to bear, he would always turn to the muggle world for distraction and it was yet to disappoint him.

Lily Potter had been a respectable name among the Unspeakables and she was known for her creative and ingenious mind. She had been advancing rather well in her department in the brief years that she had worked there. She had always told Harry that all of her creative ideas usually had an inspiration from the muggle world. Looking at how the muggle world was making strides in advancing their technology and inventions, Harry knew that his mother was right. The muggle world definitely helped widen the scope of his imagination with their innovative concepts.

 _Yes_ , Harry thought that it was definitely now time, for him to test his skills as well as his limits. And this tournament promised to be exactly the opportunity Harry needed at the time.

Yes, he was definitely going to enter this tournament with a clear and convinced mind and hope that the Goblet of Fire would deem him capable enough to participate.

That very night after dinner, Headmaster Snape announced the names of the judges who would be on the panel to evaluate the Champions.

"A representative from each participating country's ministry has been chosen to be on the panel of the three judges. First, please welcome, Madame Juliette Moreau, Head of the Department of International Cooperation, French Ministry of Magic," Headmaster Snape announced in his deep clear voice, which was devoid of any emotion, just like all the speeches the man ever made.

There was a slight applause which substantially increased in volume when the lady in question stood up to greet the Great Hall. If Harry could explain her in one word, attractive was the word which instantly came to mind. Blond hair, clear blue eyes and an allure like Harry had never felt, except…

…except when he had seen the Veelas at the Quidditch World Cup. Oh, so this lady was a Veela, who was using her charms, quite successfully, to earn the loud applause from her audience. Harry tightened his Occlumency shields and effectively repulsed the Veela magic out of his mind. Moreau was only a part-Veela, and hence it was too easy for Harry to overcome her allure. He had effectively overcome the full-fledged Veelas that were Bulgarian Quidditch team's mascots, much to his father's pride. His godfather hadn't been so lucky; Harry wasn't sure the man had even tried to use his Occlumency shields.

Harry could now appreciate how the woman had come to occupy such a high position and why she had been selected in the first place. Her magical allure aside, she had a winning smile on her striking face and an elegant grace about her, which itself was bound to get her access inside many élite circles. The British magical community usually underestimated the Veelas but Harry knew that underneath all their charms, they could be as cunning politicians as the ordinary wizards and witches. Their position in the French community and in its ministry was a clear proof of that.

A sharp cough from the Headmaster, and the entire Great Hall turned their attention back to him.

"The next judge will be Lord Vladimir Dashkov, an alumini of Durmstrang and currently a member of the International Duelling Federation," the Headmaster continued in his bored tone.

This time, a bulky man in expensive black robes stood to face the audience. Harry could tell that this man had seen many battles, for he had the hard look in his eyes that spoke of his strong disposition. His eyes were inspecting the Great Hall the familiar way Aurors did when they arrived at a new scene. Harry had often seen this look on his father's face. There was a polite applause for the grouchy looking man until the Headmaster raised his hand to silence them.

"And finally, from the British Ministry of Magic, Mr... Todd Droller Markov." Harry noticed the rare hesitance in the Headmaster's voice before announcing the name of this man, piquing his interest. Also, Harry had never heard of this man before – which was saying something, since his father and godfather were both respected and well-known Aurors in the Ministry, meaning that Harry was familiar with just about every important name there. The Headmaster hadn't even mentioned the Department this man belonged to, now that Harry racked his brains about it. Who was he, then?

The man who now stood up seemed to be in his late twenties or at most early thirties. Dark hair, chiseled face and sharp dark eyes that were currently surveying the Great Hall with interest … and some strange emotion that Harry couldn't ascertain and yet it was quite strong in its sense that much Harry could tell. The man had a small smile on his face, a borderline smirk the Slytherins usually wore, as if he knew something the rest of them were ignorant of. Harry couldn't help but be wary of the man.

Only after the applause had died out on its own and the third judge was comfortably seated in his chair, did the Headmaster resume speaking. This reluctance on the Headmaster's part didn't go unnoticed by Harry either.

Now that he thought about it, Harry had not seen much of the Headmaster Snape during the last six years of his school life. The man was very private and never ventured out of his tower unless absolutely necessary. His speeches were always short and straight to the point, never anything out of proportions. The Headmaster still carried the air of authority around him, although he customarily ignored the students and mostly kept out of their way.

Severus Snape was also a much respected Potions Master, and was reputed for coming up with new potion inventions quite frequently. Harry suspected that the man was more interested in his potions lab than the functioning of the school; the suspicion which had also been shared by his mother; and she was one of the very few people close to the reserved man. Harry had of course, been told many embarrassing tales from the Headmaster's own school days, by his godfather. But then, he was smart enough not to take anything his uncle Padfoot said, at its face value.

"As you have already been told, three Champions shall compete in the tournament," Snape spoke after a long pause, still sounding disinterested as ever, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be awarded marks based on how resourcefully they perform each of the three Tasks, and finally, the Champion with the highest total after the third Task will win the Triwizard Cup, as well as the prize money of one million Galleons. Now as the tradition goes, three Champions are to be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

The Hogwarts Headmaster then took out his wand and with a wave, summoned the casket kept at the far end of the Head Table. Judging by the awed cries of the students, it was clear that many of them hadn't even noticed the rather unremarkable looking object till now. The Headmaster then tapped the lid with his wand and the casket opened. Guided by his wand, a large hand-carved wooden cup floated up from inside the casket, earning gasps from the audience. It was fascinating to see the brilliant blue color of the flame that the Goblet of Fire seemed to hold inside it. Harry could barely see some runes carved at the top of the cup in the blue light of the flames.

Closing the casket, the Headmaster set the famed Goblet of Fire on top of it. Harry was amused to see that even while handling such an ancient artifact, Snape still showed no emotion on his face. Even the judges seemed momentarily lost in admiring the famed object. Madame Moreau was unabashedly admiring the beautiful blue flames of the goblet; Lord Dashkov was staring at the unremarkable casket, while Mr. Markov was looking more interested in the runes carved on the goblet.

"The Goblet of Fire, has been the traditional selector of the Champions for centuries. The process of selection is very simple. The interested candidates are to write their names, as well as the name of their school, _very clearly_ , on a piece of parchment and then drop it into the Goblet. You have twenty four hours to submit your candidacy; for tomorrow, that is Halloween night; the Goblet of Fire will select the three worthy Champions who are to then compete for the Triwizard Cup in the three Tasks." Snape announced, as if he was addressing a bunch of kindergarten kids.

"I would like to remind you again that _only_ the students who have completed the age of seventeen can volunteer to participate in this tournament. The Goblet of Fire has been charmed to take into account the set age criteria so I wouldn't suggest wasting your valuable time as well as energy, in submitting your name if you are still underage."

"On another note, once your name comes out from the Goblet of Fire, designating you as the Champion of the school, you will be under a _binding_ magical contract, obligated to complete the Tasks of the Tournament. I advise you to think through the consequences before placing yourself under such restraints. The people, who have made this mistake before, have had to pay for it with their lives." Snape finished with a sneer aimed at the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students.

The announcement ended with a less enthusiastic applause, and Harry left the Great Hall with Ron at his side, who had already started chattering excitedly about the Tournament; well, once he had recovered from his momentary shock at the end of the Headmaster's speech. Harry's own mind had, however wandered over to the identity of the mysterious third judge. And the possible reason the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who was famous for his inflexible personality, had been hesitant to take his name.

The Gryffindor Common Room, quite expectedly, was bustling with the excited chattering of the students, whether they were qualified for the Tournament or not. It looked like people had gathered round in groups, according to their respective years, and felt no need to keep their voices down as they discussed the upcoming Tournament, especially the announcement regarding the Goblet of Fire tonight. Ron quickly found out where their classmates were lounging and led Harry there. All the seventh years were already engaged in a heated discussion, and nobody paid them much attention as the two boys took their seats, and that was how Harry always preferred it.

The less people who notice your presence, the less likely they are to discern your absence; this had been Harry's experience till now here at school. There was no point in keeping up appearances when Harry was sure none of his classmates could handle his true colors if he decided to show them. Also, being in the shadows helped him keep to himself and do whatever he wanted without being questioned or asked any clarifications.

Hermione Pritchard, it appeared, was urging the other girls of their year, to participate in the Tournament. "You can't let the Headmaster's words affect your decision, Lav." She told Lavender Brown, a girl with a fickle disposition.

Brown looked to her best friend, Parvati Patil, with pleading eyes. Patil spoke up, "I don't know, Hermione. It doesn't matter whether we put our names or not, the Goblet is never going to pick us anyway."

Harry could easily understand the hesitance on the girls' part; they both'd never shown any interests other than in gossiping and dressing up in all of the six years he had known them. But Pritchard, to her credit, looked affronted. "How can you say with certainty that you won't be selected, when you will not even put your name in?"

Seamus Finnigan decided to cut in, hoping to ease the tension. "Does anyone know how the Goblet will decide who gets to be the Champion?"

Dean Macmillan, his best friend, snickered, "Seeing as it is a Goblet of _Fire_ , you might just have a chance, mate!"

"Or you could end up burning your own parchment before you even submit it in!" Neville Longbottom, usually the quiet guy, quipped in.

The group, except for Harry, broke into a loud laughter following that comment. Finnigan was infamous for accidently setting things on fire, since their very first year. Harry had a little hunch that the boy had a natural affinity for elemental fire magic, but he had never voiced it to him, lest he was wrong. His mother had been researching about the elemental magic but she had died untimely before completing it, just like her many other unfinished projects. Harry had been going over some of her old papers, and had found them very enlightening. It had also made him try out some of her theories, which had proved to be all true till now. Elemental magic though very difficult, was not impossible to perform.

"At least Finnigan _is_ going to put his name forward." The Head Girl was the first one to sober up, and then she fixed Seamus Finnigan with a sharp look. "Aren't you?"

"Yes, yes, I will! Blimey, when did I say I won't?" The guy in question assured her hastily, not wanting to come under her wrath.

Pritchard proceeded to question everyone else and they all answered positively, Ron with a bit much of enthusiasm.

"And you, Potter? You _are_ going to put your name in, aren't you?" She finally turned to Harry, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Somehow, the girl always found a way to bring him to attention. Maybe she had caught on to the fact that Harry actively avoided the public eye.

"Yes." Was the short reply Harry gave her, keeping an uneasy smile on his face for further effect.

"Fine, we'll put our names in too!" Brown told Pritchard, with Patil nodding as well. Judging by the secret glance the two girls shared, Harry suspected that they were probably lying to get out of the Head Girl's way.

"I don't understand why you're forcing them to compete, Pritchard. Wouldn't it be better for you to reduce the competition?" Ron asked, genuinely confused.

Pritchard rewarded him with a patronizing look and replied, "There's only going to be a single Champion from Hogwarts, which I assume you do understand, Weasley. And, if _I_ 'm not selected, I want a fellow Gryffindor to represent our school and win us the Cup." Her eyes turned briefly towards Harry before she continued.

"If the Slytherins somehow manage to get that glory, we'll never be able to breathe peacefully inside the castle again. Not to mention that it would mean we'd have to cheer for a Slytherin Champion throughout this year." Harry thought there was enough venom in her voice to bring a Basilisk to shame. And yes, Basilisks did have venom but not as much potent as an Acromantula.

The entire group clearly understood what she was referring to. The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses was currently at its zenith, courtesy the two Head students of the school. It was common knowledge how much Hermione Pritchard and Draco Malfoy hated each other, and in turn their Houses. They were both strong contenders for the selection of Hogwarts Champion themselves, and if any of them ended up getting selected, they would not waste a single second to rub it in the loser's face.

Harry personally had no ill will towards the Slytherin House; they were bound to consider themselves superior, with most of them coming from influential wizarding families. In fact, if it wasn't for his Gryffindor legacy, he himself would've been in Slytherin. However, he wanted to have the Championship for himself, rather than any other Slytherin or Gryffindor for that matter.

"Well, looks like all of us are going to submit our names then!" Dean Macmillan said after a long pause, diffusing the tension.

"Yes, why not go and put our names in right now? Won't hurt to be early, will it?" Finnigan suggested, cheering up. He did not notice the death glares Lavender and Parvati were sending his way.

" _That_ , is actually a brilliant idea!" Ron exclaimed, in an effort to salvage his reputation with the Head Girl. He looked expectantly at Pritchard.

Pritchard considered the offer, looking around at each of them in turn. Finally, she shrugged. "Fine, let's go, then."

There was still some time for the curfew and so the group of Gryffindors easily made their way into the Great Hall, where the magnificent Goblet of Fire stood aflame. The Hall was almost empty; barely a couple of students had come to submit their names till now. It seemed like the Headmaster's warning had had its effects, but Harry was positive that a good night's sleep would be enough for the students to forget his words and come tomorrow morning, students would be swarming up to the Goblet to get their names in. Even the underage ones!

Seeing the ancient Cup up close, all of them spent some time looking it over. Harry and Pritchard were the only ones to be interested in inspecting the runes while the others were still overcome by its magnificence. Brown and Patil had chosen to focus on the brilliant blue flames. The runes carved on the Cup were in an ancient dialect that Harry couldn't recognize much to his annoyance. And judging by the look of consternation on her face, neither could Hermione Pritchard. Harry was soon intrigued by the intricately carved serpents on the Goblet, which on looking closely resembled a runespoor.

When everyone was finally able to focus on the task that they had actually come for, they took out their parchments and wrote their names above 'Hogwarts'.

"Fred and George would've died to get this chance!" Ron whispered to Harry.

Ron's elder twin brothers had already graduated from Hogwarts and hence were not qualified to participate. The boys had been good acquaintances of Harry, since he was once on the Quidditch team with them. Judging by their brilliance at pranking and penchant for trouble making, Harry thought they would've made brilliant Champions. Now that he thought about it, even Uncle Padfoot would've wanted to enter his name very much. Maybe Harry could try entering in his godfather's name under another school's name, as a prank. And what a spectacular prank it would be!

On a second thought, Harry realized that the prank was not a good idea when it could potentially bite him back, botching his own chances if he was caught, which finally made him decide against it.

Harry ended up being the last one submitting his parchment after the rest of his classmates had already entered. He watched as the flames flared brightly, accepting his entry. It was all so incredible, that he couldn't wait to tell his godfather all about this when they talked. Judging by the unusual solidarity that his House was showing this night, he would have to wait for tomorrow to talk to him. Two-way mirrors were not exactly allowed inside the school and Harry couldn't really trust any Gryffindor with his secret.

Anyhow, they were among the first ones to volunteer their names into the Goblet of Fire, which seemed to delight Hermione Pritchard in particular. Everyone else apart from her looked apprehensive and nervous, now that they had submitted their names.

"Come on, let's get to the Common Room now. We'll get the results tomorrow." Pritchard told them, cheerfully. And then, she proceeded to lead the anxious group back to the Gryffindor Tower.

For now, everything else rested on the Goblet's decision.


	2. Chapter 2

**Beta: Mrs. ThorfinnRowle**

* * *

 **Chapter 2 – A Father's Dilemma**

James Potter was troubled. All his life, he had placed immense faith in his intuitions and they had yet to disappoint him. It were his instincts that had flourished his school career as a troublemaker and it were the same instincts which had later helped him become a prominent Auror. And right now those very instincts were telling him that something big was coming and it somehow involved his son, Harry.

Harry, his only son, was the person that James valued above everything else in his life. Currently, James had this overwhelming feeling that something huge was about to happen to his son, something that was going to change his life. And that was the reason why he was now pacing in the newly furnished lounge of 12, Grimmauld Place on Halloween night.

"Stop trying to wear a hole in the carpet, Prongs! It's brand new, you know." An amused voice interrupted.

He was so lost in his thoughts that James did not hear his best friend and partner at work, Sirius Black, who was Lord Black now, come inside the room. He couldn't help narrowing his eyes at the happy mood of his best friend. James had known the man long enough to tell that this self-satisfied smile never bode well for anyone involved.

"Why are you looking so happy? Tell me what you did this time, Padfoot! I'm in no mood for a prank right now." James all but screamed at his friend, whose eyes grew wider by James's every word.

"Hell, what's got you in this bloody mood? Relax, Prongsy! Here, take a sip. Merlin, I didn't know looking happy is a crime for me now!" Sirius said, waving his wand and handing him a conjured cup of FireWhiskey, something the man always kept ready for emergencies like this. It was just one of the many strange habits of the quirky man.

James finished the drink in a single gulp and fixed him with a sharp look. "Well?"

"Nothing, mate! I did nothing worth that look at all. Look, I just had a talk with the little Prongslet and I was simply feeling proud of him. That was the sole reason that I was happy, I swear! Never knew being happy was a crime now!" Sirius explained as well as grumbled, throwing both his hands in the air in apparent exasperation.

Sirius did love his godson to a fault, which only made him try to spoil the boy silly˗ much to James's dismay. Not that James himself was entirely innocent of that crime, but they were both lucky that Harry was never the kind of boy who took after their pranking ways. He did join them on adventures occasionally, but there was always a strong principled side of his mother present in him. It made sense that his godfather was in a good mood after talking to Harry, so James took a deep breath and took a chair by the fireplace. And yet it still was not a reason to relax.

"Okay, what did Harry do this time round to make you so proud, Padfoot?" James asked, concern still lacing his voice.

"Hey, I don't know what's suddenly got into you tonight, Prongs. Harry is a seventh year at Hogwarts this year, and he is of age now. Besides, he has grown up into a pretty responsible kid, despite all my efforts to turn him into a marauder. Too much of his mother in him, I suppose! But, I really don't think you should use that tone for him." Sirius spoke up defiantly, in what he thought was in defense of his godson.

James sighed, sinking further into his chair. "Look, I am just worried about Harry, mate. It's just this feeling that I can't seem to shake, call it a father's intuition, that something big is about to happen."

Sirius sat down in the adjacent chair and put a comforting arm around his distressed best friend. "Well, something big is about to happen all right. Harry told me he has put his name into the Goblet of Fire. But that doesn't mean you have something to worry about, Prongs. Besides it's Samhain today. I understand why you might be in this mood. Lily."

James shut his eyes as the memories of his beloved wife overwhelmed him. It was exactly two years now since she died and James still felt that he wasn't ready to accept that fact yet. Why should he, when he could still see her smiling proudly whenever Harry caught the snitch in a new record time, and still hear her laugh at Padfoot's crazy adventure ideas, still feel her in his arms every time he went to sleep.

"Hey Prongs, mate? I know that Halloween is a hard time to be around, but think about Harry, okay? He seemed quite excited about this Tournament when I talked to him and that's a good thing, right? He never said it himself but I could see the excitement in his eyes." Sirius told him and James was finally brought to the land of the living once again.

Harry, yes. He had to pull himself together for his son. Harry had been equally, if not more devastated by his mother's loss but the boy had locked all of his grief inside of him. Harry had been the one comforting his shattered father, when it should have been the opposite. And ever since, the already introverted boy had become even more closed. Even his favorite past-time had changed from playing Quidditch to extensively reading books, perhaps to a degree that even surpassed his mother and that was saying something!

James opened his eyes to look at the concerned Sirius. "I'm just worried about him, Sirius."

"Well, there's no real reason for you to worry then, mate! I talked to him minutes ago literally and he is perfectly fine. But if you're so worried, we can wait for him to finish dinner and then try the mirror again, alright?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, that is a brilliant idea, Sirius!" James cried, relieved.

Sirius simply rolled his eyes. "He was going to call me after the Champions are announced anyway. I made him promise me that. Also, he told me all about Headmaster Snivellus announcing the names at dinner. Hey, wouldn't it be amazing if Prongslet gets chosen to represent Hogwarts?"

"I'd rather hope he isn't. Have you not heard how dangerous the Tasks are going to be for the Tournament?" James asked him, alarmed. The Ministry had been buzzing with the talks about the upcoming tournament these days and even the Auror department was discussing eagerly about it. Surely, Sirius had heard the worst things going about the event.

"Easy there, mate! We can talk about that only after the Champions have been announced. I just don't want to cheer up for a Slytherin, that's all! Now perhaps, we should get dinner too. Kreacher!" Sirius said, summoning his ancient house-elf.

With his characteristic crack of apparition, the old house-elf appeared in front of them, looking none too pleased about being called by his master.

"Master called?" Kreacher asked in his croaky voice, managing to put his contempt in his tone. Since Sirius was the only member left of the whole Black family and also the official Head of the House, the old house-elf could not disrespect him now, however much he wanted to. The elf's expression still conveyed his wish to be anywhere but here.

"Is dinner ready?" Sirius asked, ignoring his tone.

"Yes, Master." Came the curt reply, as if Kreacher thought the question was meant to doubt his ability to complete his own work. Looking at his best mate, James realized that Sirius was oblivious to it all.

"Great, lay it out for us here then!" Sirius ordered in a cheerful tone, pointing towards the dinner table.

"Yes, Master." That was all Kreacher replied before bowing out into thin air.

James couldn't help being uneasy throughout the meal, glancing over to the two-way mirror placed by Sirius's side, checking whether Harry had called. Finally, Sirius ended up throwing the mirror over to him, telling him 'to keep the bloody mirror with himself'. It wasn't long after the dinner when the mirror warmed up in James's hand.

"Hello, son!" James greeted the excited face of Harry, and he instantly understood what had happened. His son was never one to usually wear his emotions on his face and something huge must've happened to him to make him smile so wide.

"Hey, dad! I thought Uncle Padfoot had the mirror." Harry inquired.

"I'm right here, pup! Your father was so eager to talk to you that I gave it to him." Sirius spoke up from behind James, somehow managing to peer inside the mirror. James took out his wand and expanded the mirror, so that they both could easily look inside the mirror.

"It's actually great that I caught both of you here right now. So, the Champions were announced tonight…" Harry began, his eyes lighting up behind his glasses.

"Oh don't make your dear ol' Uncle suffer and tell us that you got selected already!" Sirius cut in, impatient as ever. James's heart almost stopped at the coming announcement.

"Yes, Uncle Padfoot! I am the Hogwarts Champion!" Harry told them, eagerly.

Sirius gave a mighty shout and started dancing wildly, celebrating Harry's selection in an instant. Harry looked happy at his godfather's reaction, but his eyes were focused on his father's face, especially on the tears that had started forming in his eyes.

"Dad?"

James shook himself out of his instinctive pride as well as worries and focused on his boy who was waiting for his father to react to his good news.

"I am proud of you, son!" James finally told him.

The radiant smile on Harry's face was enough to make James forget about the perilous Tasks that lay ahead of them and just be happy for the moment.

"So, how was Headmaster Snivellus's reaction? I bet he was sorely disappointed, but you showed him for us Prongslet!" Sirius managed to say, in between his stupid victory dance.

"I don't know, Uncle Padfoot! It's always hard to read Professor Snape at all times. But what I can say for sure is, he didn't look happy." Harry answered.

"Yeah well, when does he ever!" was Sirius's retort.

"Perhaps we should've made more efforts to reconcile with him. He would've been more helpful to Harry otherwise." James mused. He was rewarded with a betrayed look from Sirius which made Harry cough to remind them of his presence.

"Now, tell me every little thing, Prongslet! What ever happened tonight in the Great Hall, and don't you leave any details. Come on! A Marauder's son doesn't become the Hogwarts Champion every day!" Sirius said, turning his attention to Harry.

"Okay, so we had this delicious feast tonight, grander than the usual Halloween Feast. There were so many foreign delicacies like this French…."

"Harry James Potter! You very well know what I want to know about! Enough with the fancy treats and toffees tell me what all happened _after_ the Halloween Feast ended." Sirius huffed impatiently.

Harry gave a knowing smirk at his godfather's outburst before he started speaking once again.

"I didn't know you had this aversion to fancy food, Uncle Padfoot! In fact, I was rather under the impression that you actually _liked_ eating." Harry deadpanned.

James couldn't help snorting at Sirius's expense. "Serves you right, mate! For rushing him like that!"

"Harry, just remember that I'm your cool godfather, who gives you unrestricted access to the Black library and spill everything. Quick!" Sirius ordered, managing to sound authoritative and amusing at the same time.

Harry's eyes shone at the mention of the library and he gave a mock bow to his godfather, before replying, "As you wish, Lord Black."

"Okay, right after the Feast, when the designated twenty four hours were over, the Goblet of Fire started tossing up the names of the selected Champions one by one. You should've seen it, dad. The flames of the Goblet are usually this striking blue color but they turned red whenever a Champion was being announced." Harry explained with bright excited eyes.

"Headmaster Snape of course, announced the names one by one. First the Champion from Durmstang was announced. A student named Dimitri Krum, he is actually the younger brother of the famous Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum, I think." Harry recalled.

"Right, the Quidditch star! We went to the world cup where he played a few years back, didn't we?" Sirius put in.

"The very same." Harry confirmed.

"Bulgaria lost that game as I recall, but Krum had got the snitch. What really stood out for me was that seeker's perseverance. He chose to continue playing even with a broken nose. It would be unwise to underestimate someone like Krum." James mused out loud.

"Yeah, but it's his younger brother that'll be competing here. There's no telling whether the younger Krum is like his brother or not." Sirius contemplated.

"True, but he is bound to have learnt something from his brother. Given the fact that he was selected by the Goblet itself makes him a strong contender." James argued.

Before Sirius could reply however, Harry intervened.

"Dad, I'm not underestimating anyone. That's the last thing I'd do." Harry told them sincerely.

"Yeah, _I_ know. Go on, prongslet!" Sirius urged him through the mirror.

"Fine, the next Champion to be announced was from Beauxbatons, Gabrielle Delacour. I'll admit that I don't know much about her as of now but I did read about a Delacour in the French Ministry. It's quite possible that they are related." Harry surmised.

When there were no comments from his listeners, Harry continued.

"Finally, the Hogwarts Champion was announced. You could almost taste the excitement off of the seventh years; they were all so eagerly awaiting the announcement. And then, my name was called. I think there were a lot of people disappointed by that, and the rest uncertain. Ron was shocked, that much I am certain about. I mean, I have hardly stood out at school, other than being a respectable Seeker sometime back. Anyways, I think I still got the loudest applause in the end because the students were all keen to show their support to their own school's Champion."

James could tell that Sirius was indignant after hearing the implication that Harry may not have gotten the appreciation as was expected for the Hogwarts Champion. He clutched his friend's arm hastily, stopping him from interrupting Harry again. Thankfully, Sirius held his tongue.

"Well, after the announcement was over, the Champions were all taken to another room where we were personally introduced to the three Heads of the School and the three judges of the Tournament. Then they went on to explain how we were under a magical contract and that we were now bound to participate in the Tasks." Harry finished sheepishly.

"Hm, and how they were not going to be held responsible if anything happened to you while you participate?" James asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Yeah, and that too." Harry muttered.

Before James had time to interrogate his son further about the level of difficulty involved with the Tasks, Sirius spoke up.

"Did they say anything about not asking for outside help?"

"Actually, Headmaster Snape did. But Mr. Markov, the judge that's representing the British Ministry, commented how it was traditional for the Triwizard Champions to cheat and get help." Harry replied.

"Perfect, Prongslet! That's exactly what I wanted to hear." Sirius exclaimed, happily.

"But then in his very next line, he proceeded to warn us how we were all under the watchful eyes of the Supreme Lord and that cheating was not advisable. Mr. Markov is a strange man, for sure." Harry mused aloud.

"Did you say, Mr. Markov? From the British Ministry? I don't seem to recall anyone by that name in our Ministry." James asked, racking his brains for a Ministry worker called Markov.

"Actually, Dad. Even I was curious about the man, and I had been hoping that you would know more about him. He has to be important enough to be representing our Ministry, isn't he?" Harry asked, interested.

"Hm, the name sounds familiar to me. I think it is someone from the cabinet of the Minister for Magic. How did he look, Harry? There is this really attractive guy I've seen representing the Supreme Lord sometimes in the Sacred twenty-eight meetings." Sirius spoke, his brows knitted in serious contemplation.

"Yes well, you could call him attractive. He looks to be in his twenties, or early thirties, sleek black hair and even the Headmaster seems to respect him." Harry wondered aloud.

"That'd be him, then! I've been trying to get introduced to the guy, but no luck till now!" Sirius replied, dejected.

James shoved his elbow into his chest this time, making him groan. "Harry doesn't need to know about your current fascinations, Padfoot!"

"Okay, okay. Well, Harry was the one who mentioned him, not me! Besides, there is a rumor that he's already taken." Sirius pouted, and then proceeded to add in a conspiratory whisper. "As a matter of fact, he's rumored to be the Supreme Lord's lover."

James was too shocked to hear this new piece of news. The Supreme Lord was known to be a strictly private person, but then his closest people, popularly known as the Inner Circle were bound to know some personal things about him. Potters were not included on the list of Sacred Twenty-eight families which meant that James was not privy to its meetings which were infamous for gossiping about the scandalous affairs of the pureblood families.

"Well, he has to be someone rather influential to be representing our country at the Tournament. There was also a strange thing." came Harry's voice, breaking James out of his stupor.

"What was?" Sirius was quick to query.

"I am certain that he was masking his magic." Harry answered.

And before he could say anything else they started to hear loud chattering in Harry's background.

"Well, looks like the students have finished the Feast and are returning to the Tower. Great chat, Dad, Uncle Padfoot! Good night." Harry called, hurriedly.

"Good night, son. Take care!" James greeted.

"Yeah, the Marauder legacy rests on your shoulders, kiddo!" Sirius finished, before the mirror turned blank again.

"Wow, I can't believe our little Prongslet is going to be the Hogwarts Champion. I have no doubt that he is going to bring us the Triwizard Cup, Prongs!" Sirius cried, slumping down onto the new couch.

James however, chose to focus on the infamously precarious nature of the Tasks that lay ahead for his son to face. He quietly reverted the mirror back to its normal size.

"It's not a Quidditch Cup, Padfoot. It's the Triwizard Cup, and it was banned centuries ago for a reason. The _death_ toll mounted too high, you understand what that means, don't you?" James asked his friend, seriously.

Sirius's grin faltered, as he finally realized what his best friend was worried about.

"And he can't get out now even if he wanted to, isn't it?" Sirius blurted out.

"No, he can't." James confirmed.

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to make sure that Harry gets out of this unscathed. And hope that the time he has spent in the Black Library has taught him some great spells." Sirius said, miserably this time.

"Yes, all we can do for now is, hope." James sighed, agreeing with Sirius for once this night.

"But look on the bright side, Prongs! Harry has finally got something he looks genuinely interested in. I've never seen him this happy since- well, after Lily." Sirius finished, sheepishly.

Now that he thought about it, James knew that Sirius had indeed made a good point there. Harry had not shown this sort of enthusiasm for anything since Lily had died. He had built an invisible wall of defense around himself and was frankly, indifferent to any of James or Sirius's adventure plans which were meant to draw him out of his shell. Harry did go wherever they wanted him to, but it was plainly evident that he never really enjoyed himself the way he used to, before. If participating in the Triwizard Tournament was what was going to get his son to start living his life once again, then James would gladly encourage his participation and help his son win his way through it.

"Do you think we should tell him?" Sirius's nervous question brought him back from his stupor.

"I don't think that's really a good idea right now, Padfoot. What with the sword of this Tournament hanging over his head!" James mused.

"Maybe not right now. But Harry deserves the truth, you know!" Sirius sighed.

"I agree with you on that, Sirius. Do you think we should call on Remus?" James asked, changing the subject.

Sirius seemed conflicted when he answered, "I don't know, Prongs! It's not like he's an easy person to track nowadays."

James sighed. "Well, Harry can track him quite easily, whenever he wants to. They are very close, Padfoot. Don't you think Remus deserves to know about this from us, rather than from the newspapers?"

"Yes, because he gets a regular supply of newspapers for keeping track of our world? Do you think he cares what happens to the rest of the world?" Sirius retorted, bitterly.

"Hey, when are you going to let this go, Sirius? You have to forgive Moony at some point. We were the best of friends; we can't be fighting with each other for so long!" James sighed.

"Well, I'm not the one who abandoned his two remaining best friends to live off in some faraway werewolf colony. You are right, we were best of friends, and look at us now! How could he do this to us, after all we have done for him!" Sirius bit out. To this day, James was amazed by how quickly Sirius could switch his temper.

"We can't really be best friends if we start counting the things we do for each other. You can't blame him for wanting to taking care of his kind, Sirius! We both have been to some of the werewolf colonies; you have seen their condition, especially the young ones. What Remus is doing is a noble thing, something that he believes in. We have to support him in this, rather than hate him for it. Besides, he is responsible for them, now that he is their Alpha. Much like how you are for your House, after becoming the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black." James told him, putting his hand around his shoulder. He had to make his friend come to terms with the truth instead of wallowing in meaningless anger and eventually sorrow.

Sirius was silent for a while, brooding over the things James had just said. His eyes caught the small mirror they had just used to talk to Harry, and his demeanor changed. "Harry has been visiting him regularly, hasn't he?"

"Yes, but he never tells me whenever he goes to visit. I wonder if he thinks I would stop him if I ever found out. But, his dirty shoes and clothes are a dead giveaway." James told him, and he gave a small smile.

"So, that's where he goes when he disappears during the holidays?" Sirius asked.

"Hey, I know that even _you_ sneak off with him to the muggle world when I'm assigned on a solo duty, so don't try and play dumb with me, Padfoot!" James accused.

Sirius, to his credit, had the decency to at least try to look guilty. "Well, my love for the adventures the muggle world offers is no secret. And anyhow, we don't go out as often as you think we do. I'm an Auror too, if you can remember!"

"Fine, I concede that you are with me most of the time." James acceded, and then sighed. "I have no idea where Harry wanders off to most of the time, but I can never bring myself to ask. And in his defense, he always comes around. Besides, we have such busy schedules as Aurors. I can't really fault him for getting bored in an empty house."

"But, you are still worried." Sirius stated. It was not a question.

"Of course, I am. It's not like I don't trust him, Padfoot! Half the time, I come home to an empty house, I never even know where he is, or whether he's safe or not. He goes over to his muggle aunt's house too, and you know how I can't stand those people. I think the reason he never tells me is because he thinks I'll stop him from going into the muggle world or Remus. I don't want to trap him inside the house, Padfoot, he's already so closed. Lily was the one that he was close to and I know that he used to be very open with her. I never know how to bring up anything with him and how he's going to take it. But sometimes I'm just…

I simply want to be assured that he isn't in any danger whenever he disappears! The downside of being an Auror is that my mind comes up with all the worst sort of things that Harry could get into." James mumbled.

"You probably think that I've finally lost my marbles, don't you?" He asked, after Sirius remained uncharastically silent after his outburst.

"No, you are right about worrying after Harry, Prongs! He's your son; you have the right to be. Actually, you got me to think that I am presenting a bad example for Harry as his godfather. And you are right about Remus, too. I've been unjustifiably hard on him. I just need some time to sort that out." Sirius told him.

James felt a heavy burden lifting off of his shoulder. If Sirius and Remus could leave their bitterness behind, they could have their lost friend back once again. After Peter, the three of them were only left of the Marauders pack that they had when they met at Hogwarts.

"So, about this Harry's tournament… What do you suppose we should do first?" Sirius asked him.

"We could try to find out what the First Task is going to be. It has to have been planned from within the Ministry, so someone might know something that could be of use to us." James concluded.

"Hm, you're right. We should start from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and perhaps the Department of International Magical Cooperation too." Sirius put in.

He proceeded to pour a drink for himself and James, and handed him a glass. James gladly accepted.

"Of all the Tournaments he could've chosen, Harry had to choose the worst one, didn't he?" James commented, sipping his FireWhiskey.

"What did you expect; he's the only one keeping the Marauders' legacy alive, Prongs!" Sirius replied smiling, his mood back to his cheery self.

"He is, isn't he?" James agreed.

"Actually, I also wanted to run one other thing by you." Sirius started.

"Yes, Padfoot?"James's interest rose, it wasn't everyday his best friend faltered in saying something.

"I um, I wanted to name Harry as the heir to the House of Black. You know, we are related through blood too and besides, he's actually my godson. So, it seems appropriate…" Sirius was awful at explaining things and so James took pity on his friend and cut him off.

"It's fine, Padfoot. You can save your explanations for Harry, I'm not the one you need to convince here, mate! Besides, if I know you well enough, you'd have already gone through with the paperwork even before asking me, or should I say, informing me about your decision." James eyed him, a knowing look in his eyes.

Sirius had the decency to look away. "Well, you do know me better than anyone else."

"It isn't too late to start your own family, you know?" James told him.

As he had expected, Sirius looked put out even as the idea was suggested. "I'm fine with playing around with people but family… is just something I don't want to be involved in. I have a family with my friends already and Harry is the only son I'll ever need. I'm not saying anything else on the subject."

"Well, there's no lack of beautiful witches or wizards for that matter, in our world. Lots of options for you to consider, mate. Just saying!" James teased.

"Hmm.." Sirius put on a thoughtful face, that James knew from experience was fake. "Actually, that Markov guy is quite appealing. Too bad he's already taken. Maybe Harry could introduce me to him."

"Don't involve Harry in all of this, Padfoot!" James retorted, a bit more harshly than he intended.

Sirius didn't look offended, rather satisfied. "Don't go poking your nose where it can be bitten off, Prongs!"

"Stooping this low, are we Padfoot?" James asked, annoyed.

"What's the thing those muggles say, 'Everything is fair in love and war'?" Sirius replied, cocking his eyebrow playfully as ever.

"I'm just going to let that go, only because I want both of us to be in one piece for tomorrow so that we can find out something about this Tournament of Harry's." James offered.

"Well, Markov could tell me something about the Tournament too, I can be very convincing, you know?" Sirius pouted.

James sighed. "Do you really have a death wish, Sirius? If he turns out as the rumors say, Lord Voldemort is never going to spare you."

"Yes, like I'm afraid of the old man!" Sirius snorted, and now James was suspicious that his friend was drunk now. James decided against pointing it out to him that the Supreme Lord was still in his seventies, not that old for a powerful wizard.

"Fine, just forget about Markov till the Tournament is over, okay, for Harry?" James asked.

"Yes, fine. I'll let him go for now. But not before I tell Harry what I'm sacrificing for him." Sirius replied.

James simply shook his head at his friend's antics, and then his gaze fell on the clock.

"Time to get some sleep now, Padfoot! I've got to go. Goodnight!" He called, making his way over to the fireplace.

"Hey, you can stay in the other room, mate! There's enough space here for the two of us." Sirius pointed out.

"Fine, then. I'm still going to sleep. We have to get to work tomorrow morning. Goodnight!" James said, before turning back in the direction of the second bedroom.

But Sirius had flung his arms out to him. "Carry me to my bed, Prongs?"

James couldn't help rolling his eyes. Sometimes, Sirius was more like a child than Harry ever had been. He noticed that the man's wand was lying on the table out of his reach. Inspired by a sudden idea, he whipped out his own wand, levitated his bewildered friend up in the air, floating him over the stairs behind him.

"That's not what I meant, James! I could've used a bloody broom if I wanted to fly!" Sirius grumbled.

James didn't reply but placed his helpless friend onto his bed in his bedroom, locked his door and left, ignoring his friend's yells calling for his wand. He was sure that come tomorrow morning, Sirius would finally think of Kreacher to bring back his wand for him. Right now, James had other things to worry about, like his son participating in a deadly tournament.


	3. Chapter 3

**Beta: Mrs. ThorfinnRowle**

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – The Supreme Lord**

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

There were not many people around in the wizarding world right now who still remembered this name. But he did.

And how could he ever forget! His story had begun from that very name.

Tom Riddle had been five years old when he found out the story behind his name and how he came to be at the abominable Wool's Orphanage. An old maid had given in to his incessant questioning and told him all about the time his mother had died giving birth to him inside the very premises of that orphanage. But not before giving him this name, 'Tom Marvolo Riddle'. 'Tom' after his father and 'Marvolo' after his maternal grandfather, she had said.

Not that 'Tom' was a great name to start with! As a matter of fact, there had been five other Toms around at his own orphanage. He had always thought that names were important, even as a child. That conviction only ever increased as he got older. And wiser!

Tom Riddle had been a quiet and beautiful child, always keeping to himself and regularly cleaning his room, dutifully devoting his time to studying and finishing all his chores in time. It was for his perfection that the other boys at the orphanage hated him. He knew this because he had always been able to tell when anyone was lying to him. And that wasn't the only wonderful thing he could do!

Tom distinctly remembered how he had performed his first bout of magic. He had been furious at Billy Stubbs for spreading lies about him stealing other people's belongings, even though they weren't all lies. He had stormed into Billy's room to give him a piece of his mind. Finding the room empty had only fueled his anger further and the next moment, in a dazzling green flash everything inside the room had been destroyed, as if hit by a violent storm.

He would never forget how it felt at that moment. The first time that he had actually tasted power!

And his hunger for power had never been quenched ever since.

Tom Riddle continued to experiment with his new found power in his orphanage, amazed by its wondrous experiences every time. He also found some friends in the local snakes, who were able to converse with him very easily. They had told him that he was special and he believed them.

Some answers came when Tom Riddle reached the age of eleven. He was told about the existence of a secret magical world and was offered a place at the magical school of Hogwarts by an eccentric, mysterious man that visited him at the orphanage. At first, he was miffed at the revelation that he was not really special and that there were other people with similar powers like him. But then he resolved to soon become the greatest among them all.

In all his seven years at Hogwarts, Tom Riddle shined bright and high as the best student of his time. The deprived child from the arduous environment of an ill-kept orphanage studied all about magic and the wizarding culture and he excelled. All of his teachers and peers were mesmerized by him. Except for one, Professor Dumbledore, the only person had glimpsed his true element when the man had come to inform him of the magical world. The stubborn old man refused to let go of his first impression and so Tom Riddle had decided to let him be.

Eventually, Tom Riddle found out about his true legacy. He was the heir to the ancient and noble House of Slytherin by his blood; a House who was thought to have died out long ago. Suddenly, he was no longer just a poor orphan who had nothing to his name. However, the orthodox wizarding rules would not let him take the name of his true ancestry. All because he had a muggle for his father; it wasn't as if he had any choice in the matter!

That was when he had decided to change his own name.

He became Lord Voldemort, for he couldn't ever be Lord Slytherin.

Tom Riddle's school career had many accomplishments but at the same time there were some slip-ups too. There were times that he regretted falling into some temptations; but then, the road to greatness is never so facile.

He had so many plans for when he finally completed his school education and take his rightful place in the magical world. But none of them came to fruition. All because the Dark Lord Grindelwald had chosen that particular time to turn his attention towards the British magical community.

He had to then postpone his plans and decided to go abroad, in favor of learning different kinds of magic and discovering new magical creatures rather than staying back in a country plagued by war. He decided to use this time for his own personal mission of becoming the most powerful and invincible wizard of all time. He had assumed that Albus Dumbledore, who was by then the most famous and powerful wizard of the time, would thwart the rising Dark Lord by the time he returned back. His presumption however, was proven wrong.

Everyone had underestimated the cunning of the Dark Lord Grindelwald. The man never openly challenged Dumbledore or the authorities for that matter. He continuously operated from within the shadows and the attacks he carried out were always random. Muggles, mudbloods, dark creatures, even the occasional pureblood, in fact anyone who opposed his ideals, was brutally targeted. The outcome was chaos and panic, which was exactly what Grindelwald had wanted all along.

Seeing no other alternative, Lord Voldemort had then begun forming his own base in Britain. The fellow students within his circle of influence, from his time at Hogwarts gave him the first start there. It was easier to convince people to join his side because there was a crazy man on the other end. Of course, Dumbledore too had formed his own group called Order of the Phoenix, to oppose the reigning Dark Lord.

Lord Voldemort soon learned through a few encounters that the Dark Lord Grindelwald possessed some impressive magical strength aside from his somewhat wild, unpredictable personality. Also, he concluded that to defeat someone who was so gifted at the Dark Arts, he himself would have to become an expert at it.

So then, Lord Voldemort had thrown himself into studying the Dark Arts and the fact that he already had quite the aptitude for it helped the matters further. As it was with everything else, he soon mastered the subject to its best and then went further beyond its limits.

He became a Dark Lord himself.

Of course, Lord Voldemort had to keep it all a secret.

Well, except for his closest followers. But that was only because they were bound to notice the very visible changes in him that came with the practicing of the Dark Arts. Also, he had to allow them the delusion of having acquired his trust.

Despite all his careful measures, Dumbledore became aware of his new status somehow and the old man decided that the world did not need yet another Dark Lord. In an effort to wage war against both the Dark Lords, the Headmaster resigned from Hogwarts. And in doing so, the old fool left the school vulnerable to Lord Grindelwald's attack. The school, which was the only place that Lord Voldemort had ever valued!

Just like Lord Voldemort had predicted, Grindelwald attacked Hogwarts in a week within the resignation of Dumbledore. But, before the ancient wards of the school could fall, Lord Voldemort and his loyal followers reached the school in time and defended it from falling to the reigning Dark Lord's whim.

A fierce duel ensued between the two Dark Lords and finally the better one emerged as the winner. Dumbledore too had arrived at the scene with his Order by then but the battle was already over. In a move that surprised even _him_ , _Lord Voldemort!_ , Albus Dumbledore pleaded with him to save his _Gellert_ 's life. And it turned out; the two old men were lovers once. And _that_ had been the reason Grindelwald had been wary to face Dumbledore for so long.

Love, the all-powerful force on the face of the earth, as Dumbledore always used to preach, became the reason for the old man's own downfall. Seeing their leader begging to save a madman's life, Dumbledore's own followers turned away from him. It had been easy then, for Lord Voldemort to sentence both the lovers to death.

And surprisingly, nobody opposed him for it. Well, _almost_!

The magical population of Britain happily accepted him as their Supreme Lord. In fact, they seemed to worship the very ground he walked on because, for them Lord Voldemort had been the one to save them from the Dark Lord's tyranny and bring to light Albus Dumbledore's lies. His inspiring speeches emphasizing on bringing back their world to its former glory further cemented Lord Voldemort's support from the common people.

Of course, no one aside from a handful of his trusted few knew that Lord Voldemort himself was a Dark Lord. He had never been so pleased about his decision of keeping his status a secret.

Long years had followed his victory over Dark Lord Grindelwald. Lord Voldemort had worked very hard to build a stable system of law and order for the British magical community. A few of his opponents who were still left had to be eliminated first before he could focus completely on improving the standards of the wizarding community.

For one, he had made some important changes in the interactions of the wizards and witches with the muggle world. Even though it was not strictly restricted to have ties with the muggles, people were discouraged to do so. His pureblood followers had taken a lead in spreading the anti-muggle propaganda.

The process of induction of muggleborn children into the magical world was also altered. A new department was created at the Ministry of Magic with the sole purpose of overseeing the task. A magical child when born in a muggle family was detected, and then the parents were Obliviated of the memories of the child. The child was then adopted by a magical family. As the magical population had been declining steadily, the wizarding families were happy to adopt children. In the rare case of exceptions, a provision for shelter home was also set up, which was however, unused till date. The main idea behind this elaborate setup was that no magical child should ever need to suffer through a childhood like he did.

Since the policy's commencement fifteen years ago, it had proven quite successful and the magical population was on a steady rise. Lord Voldemort had been monitoring things at the Ministry personally under another self-styled name. It was a good thing indeed that he had perfected his acting skills so early in his life. After all, he could not trust anyone else to carry out his plans perfectly.

Not even the present Minister for Magic, whom he had appointed himself!

Lucius Malfoy, the current Minister had inherited the position from his father. It was rather unfortunate that he did not inherit his father's talent for politics and management. However, much to his displeasure, the quality of his followers had deteriorated so much that Lord Voldemort had no choice but to appoint Lucius Malfoy as his Minister even though the man was too self-possessed for his liking. There was nonetheless, one redeeming quality of Lucius Malfoy that nobody could contest; he was loyal to Lord Voldemort.

And so, while Minister Malfoy warmed his seat and kept up the presence of running the administration of the Ministry of Magic, 'Todd Markov', the representative of the Supreme Lord, kept his watchful eye on its decisions and functions. Everyone in the Minister's cabinet knew that Minister Malfoy would simply reiterate Representative Markov's resolutions; the real power was always in the hands of the Supreme Lord's representative.

Of course, very few were aware that the representative Droller and the Supreme Lord were one and the same. Or that the Supreme Lord had spies all over his realm who were reporting directly to him, every significant event that ever happened in his realm.

It was a tedious task; working among mediocre officials and setting the magical community back on its way to prosperity. There were far too many occasions when Lord Voldemort had almost used the killing curse on a Ministry official for his incompetence. People who believed that maintaining a regime comprised of simply dictating terms were very far from the truth. Bringing your visions into reality took some hard work which couldn't really be done by any simple man. And although it had taken some time, but Lord Voldemort's efforts were showing visible results today.

It was ironic that the most challenging trouble he faced was from his among own group of followers. Much to his displeasure, cases of corruption and crime involving some low ranking members from his own Death Eaters continued to come to light till this date, keeping the Aurors on their toes. Of course, his own name as the group's leader was never dragged into anything and he had taken several precautions to make sure that it would never happen.

Now that the affairs of the British wizarding community were mostly in place, Lord Voldemort had decided to shift his attention towards expanding his horizons further.

The invincibility project that he had always wanted to pursue was started just a few years back. Though it was predictably still facing some snags and was far from a breakthrough, Lord Voldemort had great expectations from the brightest minds available in his regime. And if the elite team of Unspeakables failed to deliver, he himself would have to take over. The only reason he wasn't already involved was because he could never work in groups. Also, because his time was currently concentrated towards another goal.

Ambition was the Slytherin's prominent defining trait, after all.

He was the Supreme Lord of Britain now. And if everything went according to his plans, 'Britain' would soon be replaced with 'Europe' in his title.

The Triwizard Tournament had seemed like the suitable idea when he had first thought of it two years ago. It would give him the perfect excuse to associate with some foreign ministries and find out their weaknesses, as well as showcase to the rest of the Europe how much Britain had progressed under Lord Voldemort's reign. It also had the added benefit of bringing a new source of entertainment for the common people. It was better to keep the fools occupied while he planned his victory over the rest of Europe.

Hogwarts had remained almost exactly like it was when he had studied here, as per Lord Voldemort's explicit wish. Of course, the current Headmaster was one of his trusted followers, who had been given firm orders to follow the old school traditions. The Supreme Lord had personally seen to it that the professors who taught at Hogwarts were the finest in their field and the useless changes that Dumbledore had made in the curriculum were done away with. The result of these measures was evident in the talented graduates the school produced in the recent years, much to his satisfaction.

This tournament was also a test for Hogwarts, and whether he needed to make further changes in the school's curriculum, in case their performance appeared mediocre. It wouldn't do for Lord Voldemort's own school to be a second rate institution.

Now, after two long years since the Triwizard Tournament's inception, his followers had finally completed their assigned tasks and the Tournament could be announced officially. These two years had tested his patience to its limit.

And patience had never really been one of his strong suits. Even at present, the spy he was waiting for was late. And yet, without the information the man was yet to bring, Lord Voldemort could not move forward with his work.

He stood from his desk and moved over towards the window. The glass reflected his current features; a bald head, scarlet eyes, and slits for nostrils. This was a face few select people were privy to, and he preferred it this way. Not that this was his real face anyway! However, he had found that the followers of a Dark Lord did their expected duties much more efficiently when their leader looked forbiddingly dangerous.

How far from the truth they all were! Even his most trusted few!

It had been an amusing experience looking down at the students' curious faces in the Great Hall when he was introduced by his styled name. He had wondered what reactions he would've garnered if he were in the terrible form that only his Death Eaters were aware of.

The Great Hall was almost exactly like he remembered from his own school days. His eyes had inadvertently screened the Slytherin table, but no other boy had stood out other than Draco Malfoy, the Minister's son. He had felt just a tad disappointed.

The Headmaster's views were same as his; there was no other exceptional student here at the time other than Draco Malfoy. However, academically a student named Hermione Pritchard, who was also the current Head Girl, was ahead of the Malfoy Heir in terms of grades. However, the girl was a Gryffindor not a Slytherin. And the Headmaster had insisted that all she really had was the knowledge she had memorized from the books.

And so, when the names of the Champions were being announced by the Goblet of Fire, Lord Voldemort himself had been sitting on the familiar Head Table in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, expecting Draco Malfoy's name to come out of the Goblet. The Headmaster had already announced the Champions from the other two schools; the last name to be announced was from Hogwarts.

The Beauxbatons Champion was a part-Veela, and he was looking forward to seeing her performance in the Tasks of the tournament. Her school was reputed for their Charms course and her inheritance combined with it would make for an interesting combination. On the other hand, the Durmstang Champion was the younger sibling of the Bulgarian Quidditch celebrity Viktor Krum. He was sure that the Champion would do everything in his power to live up to the expectations that were on him. Lord Voldemort had recognized that strong drive to prove himself in the younger Krum.

"And the Hogwarts Champion is…" Snape drawled. "Harry Potter!"

Even though the surprise was well hidden in the Headmaster's voice, Lord Voldemort was quick enough to trace it. He looked down the Hall, waiting for the Champion to come forward. The 'Potter' name was quite well-known, for the family boasted their lineage from ancient bloodlines. He was slightly relieved that the Goblet had chosen someone from a pureblood family; it would have been a riot in the pureblood circles, had the Champion been a mudblood.

A scrawny tall boy with square glasses and messy black hair, stood up from the Gryffindor table. The Hall was still silent, the rest of the students taking their time to come to terms with the evidently unexpected announcement. The boy in question glanced at the redhead sitting next to him, but it seemed that his friend was still too shocked to give him any reaction. It appeared that the Goblet's decision had caught everyone unawares. And somehow, it gave the evening an interesting touch.

The boy, Harry Potter, ran his fingers through his hair, which Lord Voldemort assumed to be a nervous tick, making the teenage's unruly hair messier than it previously was. The very next minute, the boy's posture changed and he walked more confidently towards the Head Table. It was then that the applause finally started.

He noted that there was an indignant cry from the Slytherin side of the Hall, before it was drowned in the clapping and cheering. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables were making the most noise for the Hogwarts champion. Lord Voldemort briefly wondered what the Champion had done to earn the Hufflepuffs' support. Despite their reputation, the Hufflepuffs were the toughest group to sway, as per his own experience.

Once Harry Potter had gone inside the designated room for the Champions, the Headmaster gave over the duties to his Deputy and requested the other Headmasters and the judges to follow him to the Champions' rooms.

Lord Voldemort had been quietly observing the boy who would be representing his own school at this tournament. Even though the boy was doing a good job of hiding his true emotions, he could see that the Hogwarts Champion was truly happy to have been selected. He would've doubted his sanity if the boy wasn't.

As if sensing his gaze, the boy turned his attention from Snape to him. Striking green eyes looked at him from behind the black square rimmed glasses. The boy's gaze was neither submissive nor questioning, it was suspicious.

Could it be the boy suspected his identity already?

He smirked at the boy, mostly to see how the boy would react. Lord Voldemort was pleased to see an answering smirk on the Hogwarts Champion's face, before he turned his attention back to Snape, who was listing the rules of the Tournament.

"… exempted from the end-of-year tests."

He was amused to see the eyes of the Champion narrow just a bit in disappointment at that announcement. The boy seemed to think it over then and his face became unreadable once again. Ah, a Gryffindor who could wear a mask like a Slytherin!

"I also have to impress upon you that you are all alone when it comes to the Tasks of the Triwizard Tournament. No help whatsoever will be provided-"

Todd Markov had decided to cut the Headmaster's speech right there in the middle. To make the matters more interesting, of course! And more importantly, to gauze the reactions of the people present there.

"Oh I'm sure you are aware Headmaster Snape, that cheating has always been a traditional part of this Tournament. I would not be surprised if it does happen this time around." He said, observing the reactions around him.

In the entire room, only Snape knew his true identity and so the man wisely kept his head down in submission. The other two Headmasters had a thoughtful expression and so were their champions. Lord Voldemort was quite certain they were going to explore the cheating option once they left this room. But the Hogwarts champion, his face was entirely blank but eyes wore the same expression as earlier- suspicious.

"I wouldn't advise dwelling on cheating though, since the Supreme Lord himself is taking a personal interest in this Tournament. He is keeping a closer eye on this contest than any of you can imagine. I know from experience that it is a very terrible thing indeed to get on his bad side." He continued wistfully, and then nodded to Snape to finish his speech. The slight knitting of brows on the Hogwarts Champion's face when the boy looked at him was enough to tell him that he now had the boy's attention.

After the Champions were dismissed, that very night Lord Voldemort had ordered one of his better spies, Yaxley, to find out everything he could about Harry Potter within a day. He never liked uncertainties in his plans and the boy was just that.

He'd had better success in reading the personalities of the other two judges of his panel. Madam Moreau, who insisted he call her 'Juliette', under all her charms and a distracting pretty face as was fit for a Veela, was a politician. And a good one at that! But then, the funny thing about politicians was that they always had secrets buried in some graves and all he needed was to unravel them to get her full cooperation. For the most precious thing for a politician like Moreau, was their face!

It was curious however, that the French Ministry had decided to send one of their own to judge a students' tournament.

Lord Dashkov, however was no politician. One look at the man could tell you that. He was however, quite an accomplished dueller and had been a champion at the World Duelling Championship. It was very hard to get something out of the guy because he was always so careful with himself. However, he did look out of his comfort zone here at a school tournament. It was obvious that he did not like attending public events despite being nobility himself. It was more curious that the man was sent to represent the Russian Ministry.

However, he couldn't figure out more about the Hogwarts champion or the other two judges without some thorough reports on their background.

So currently, Lord Voldemort was waiting in his office for his spy to report. His spy was very late. And that had led him to retrospect about the things that had led to this moment. What a waste of his precious time indeed!

"Yaxley, you are late." He said, turning from the window to face the anxious looking man.

The spy was smart enough to say nothing in his excuse as he sat down in the chair indicated to him.

"So?" Lord Voldemort demanded, fixing his spy with his red eyes, enjoying the look of dread in his follower's eyes thoroughly.

"My... Lord. I have the reports that you had asked for." Yaxley replied in a stuttering voice, and proceeded to place several folders at his desk.

"Good. Because if you didn't, you would've been appropriately punished for making me wait." Lord Voldemort spoke in his annoyed voice.

"My… my apologies, My Lord." Came the stuttering reply.

"So, anything that stood out about the boy?" He asked.

"No, my lord. I even approached the Headmaster Severus Snape to get his personal opinion. He says that Potter is an average student at best and is not exceptional at anything but Quidditch. But the boy resigned from his House team suddenly in his fifth year. No friends except for a Weasley boy who is more of a tag along than a friend according to other students." Yaxley reported.

"And his parents?"

"He is… Lily Potter's son, My Lord."

Ah, Lily Potter! The famed Unspeakable whose mysterious death was reported all over the newspapers a few years back. So, that was why Harry Potter's name had sounded so familiar to him!

"Lord James Potter is his father, currently a well-known Auror in the Ministry. His partner, the newly crowned Lord Black, is the boy's godfather. And yes, Remus Lupin is another known close friend of the family." Yaxley added, as an afterthought.

"The werewolf who overthrew Greyback to take over the Alpha position?" Lord Voldemort asked, interested now. The new alpha werewolf had proven elusive to him till now.

"The same, My Lord."

He levitated the file titled **'Harry J Potter'** closer to him. There was a copy of the boy's OWL results attached in the folder.

He read out, "OWL results: Outstandings in Defense, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions and Magical Creatures. And in the rest of the subjects, Potter has gotten no less than 'Exceeds Expectations'. Would you call this an average student's work, Yaxley?"

"I… I was just repeating what Headmaster Snape told me, My Lord."

"Ah yes, the school results do seem to give that opinion. Now what type of student does so well in a Ministry assigned exam and then barely gets Acceptable in the school exams?" He mused. This however, explained the boy's annoyance at having to forego his NEWTs.

"Interesting family as well! You work in the Ministry too, don't you, Yaxley? What are your thoughts about the father and the godfather?" He asked, staring down into his spy's eyes.

"M… my thoughts, My Lord?" Yaxley gulped.

After another of his fixed stares, the spy sputtered. "Um, James Potter has a formidable reputation as an Auror, having never disappointed in his mission. The loss of his wife did hit him hard, as the rumors went, but that never affected his work as far as I can say. Clean record too, except for one time when he allegedly assaulted a muggle some two years back."

"A Muggle? Hm, what about the godfather?"

"Sirius Black, well, he's a completely different case. He is Potter's partner at work, and they form an unbeatable team in the field. But off the field, Black can be impulsive, loud and reckless at times. They are both the best of friends, ever since their Hogwarts years, along with Remus Lupin. They had a group called 'The Marauders' back at school, comprising four people: Potter, Black, Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. They were all students at Hogwarts when it was attacked during the infamous battle. Pettigrew did not survive the battle. His name is inscribed at the War Memorial at Hogwarts."

"As for Potter and Black; still attached to the hip, I'd say! It has not been a month since Sirius Black was sworn in as the new Lord of the Noble and the Most Ancient House of Black. As it turned out, he didn't like his new home very much and so he has shifted next door as long as the renovations are being done in the old one. He refuses to move into his ancestral home until it has been refurbished to his liking." Yaxley spoke with a barely held breath.

Satisfied to get his honest opinion, he freed Yaxley from his intense gaze. "You have given me an interesting account, Yaxley. You can go now."

He watched Yaxley scramble away from his office, his relief quite evident. Lord Voldemort chuckled to himself and turned his face back to its natural form. It was quite amusing that his Death Eaters were under the impression that only they were privy to his natural face, however scared they were in his presence. They need not know that he did not actually look like a human-snake hybrid. It would have been an insult to his abilities if he couldn't even keep his body intact.

It had been a long time since Lord Voldemort had come across a puzzle worth his time. Harry Potter was showing promising traits for just the mystery he could spend his leisure time on.

A boy who deliberately suppressed his talents at school, a Gryffindor who wore masks worth the best of Slytherins, the Hogwarts student who had magical prowess worth being chosen by the Goblet of Fire! The boy had even managed to hoodwink one of the most observant of his followers, Severus Snape. Further, Harry Potter was the son of an ingenious Unspeakable and a reputed Auror who was known for his responsible nature; the boy had grown up in the company of his godfather, who was equally talented though a lot more reckless; and another uncle who was currently the leader of the werewolf clans, the wizard who had been a werewolf since he was a boy.

But, even with his bizarre personal connections, was Harry Potter even worth his time?

Lord Voldemort would wait till the First Task and see how the Hogwarts Champion fared at the Task. He would reserve his opinion of the boy till then.

Now that he thought about it, it was actually a good thing that the Hogwarts Champion was a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. Hogwarts had a better chance now for the Triwizard Cup, for the Slytherins were more famous for their self-preservation skills.

It wasn't everyone from the House of Serpents who could leave behind the self-doubts and risk everything for achieving the impossible.

There was only one true Heir of Slytherin after all.

But, for now, Lord Voldemort had more important things to do. With a wave of his hand, he summoned the thick folder titled **'Juliette Moreau'** and a comparatively thinner folder with the name **'Lord V Dashkov'** towards him.


End file.
